CHAOS BACK AGAIN

12

The Mikaelsons 

The Mikaelsons gathered in the great hall of their home, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. The flickering light from the fireplace cast long shadows on the walls, amplifying the brooding atmosphere. Klaus paced back and forth, his footsteps echoing through the room, his mind a whirlwind of hope, fear, and a touch of paranoia.

"Now let's talk," Klaus began, his voice low and intense. "I know I'm not the only one who sees the resemblance between Henrik and this kid from Beacon Hills. And since I've decided to trust Kol for once and believe that this isn't one of his pranks,"—he shot Kol a sharp glance—"we need to discuss what we're going to do."

Rebekah, seated with her arms tightly crossed, looked at Klaus with a mix of frustration and longing. "Honestly, Nik, I don't care if Stiles is Henrik or not. I just don't care!" she burst out. "He looks like him, he laughs like him... and that's enough for me. I just want to know him, Henrik or not," her voice quivered with emotion, but she quickly regained her composure.

Elijah, always the voice of reason, stepped in with his calm, authoritative tone. "Rebekah, while I understand how you feel, this is a serious matter. we must consider all possibilities. We need to be rational about this, not emotional. We can't afford to let our emotions cloud our judgment."

Kol, lounging by the fireplace with a smirk, chimed in with a teasing tone. "You're all overthinking it, as usual. I've spent time in Beacon Hills, remember? And I'm telling you, Stiles acts like Henrik. In every way—his mannerisms, his spirit, even his stubbornness. It's uncanny."

Klaus turned to Kol, his eyes blazing with anger. "Shut up, Kol. No one needs your input," he snapped.

Kol's grin widened, undeterred by Klaus's hostility. "Oh, come on, Nik. I wanted to be sure before I said anything. Besides, you know how you get. All paranoid and dramatic. I thought it best to observe a bit longer before bringing it up. Didn't want to send you into one of your fits."

Klaus's face darkened further, his frustration boiling over. "You should have told us the moment you suspected something! We're talking about our brother here, Kol. Our family! And you think it's just a game?"

Kol's expression shifted, his playful demeanor giving way to irritation. "And what good would it have done to tell you sooner?" he retorted. "You would've flown into a panic, started plotting, and we'd be no closer to the truth than we are now. You know that just as well as I do, Niklaus."

Rebekah, her emotions simmering just below the surface, couldn't hold back any longer. "Does it even matter if it's really Henrik?" she demanded, her voice breaking. "Can't you see? He looks like him, he feels like him... And that's enough for me. I don't care about anything else."

Elijah placed a calming hand on her shoulder, his expression soft and understanding. "Rebekah, I know this is hard for you. It's hard for all of us. But we need to stay focused. we must approach this carefully. Rushing in could be dangerous—for him and for us."

Esther, who had been silently observing the heated exchange, finally spoke, her voice carrying a quiet, calm authority that commanded attention. "I know of no witch powerful enough to bring back the dead in such a manner," she said thoughtfully. "But if Stiles is indeed Henrik, then he would be a powerful and potentially dangerous being. We must tread carefully and consider all possibilities. Rash actions could lead to consequences we are not prepared for."

Rebekah scoffed, wiping her tears away with a defiant hand. "You all can sit here and speculate all you want. But I'm going to that school where Stiles studies. I'm going to meet him myself. Henrik or not, I want to know him." She stood up, her eyes blazing with determination. "You can't stop me."